Secrets and Preparations for a Drinking Game
by Lady Elrayen
Summary: Legolas spends the day avoiding man and dwarf as he tries to prepare himself for a drinking re-match after a night in one of Minas Tirith's taverns, resulting in embarrassment, paranoia and an interesting day of avoidance and heroics...
1. Taverns of Minas Tirith

**Woo! The first chapter of this came third place for the teitho 'disguises' competition : ) thanks to all who voted : )**

**Disclaimer :**** unfortunately, I own no one from the Lord of the Rings. Although Margon, Calthor and Iruthel are mine! ******

**Summary :****. Legolas spends the day avoiding man and dwarf as he tries to prepare himself for a drinking re-match after a night in one of Minas Tirith's taverns, resulting in embarrassment, paranoia and an interesting day…**

Taverns of Minas Tirith.

As the silent figure walked down the quiet, paved streets of Minas Tirith, he observed all of his surroundings, allowing his eyes to indulge in the night atmosphere. The streets were dark, save the white stone of the city that glowed slightly but then blended seamlessly into the shadows that covered the hushed streets. A few stars shone brightly in the cloudy sky above him, like small specs of light in a vast ocean of darkness.

As he approached the gate to the fifth floor, he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, to avoid any unwanted attention, as he continued to get to his destination.

The guards wearily eyed the figure that sauntered past, hooded and cloaked. The person nodded his head slightly with a practised, controlled movement, so that the hood stayed on, disguising his features. A movement which not very many people could pull off, unless they had had to use this gesture many times before in the past.

The gate guards allowed the person to walk past, and said nothing. The figure could feel the heat of the stares from the guards on his back, but he paid them no heed. This was important. This had to be done.

He passed around a corner, and picked up his pace a little, but no so much as to draw attention. Any given attention now could put an end to his plan, and that would be most unpleasant due to the amount of fuss it would cause. The sound of a man's voice made him freeze.

"You there!"

The figure slowly turned around, cautiously, just in time to see one of the guards setting off at a run down a nearby passage. He let out the breath of air that he didn't even realise that he was holding. That was too close.

He turned again on the spot, and resumed his journey. The soft sounds of his footsteps eventually died down as he got closer and closer to his target destination that was emitting an orange glow out of the closed windows that muffled the inside noise. The perfect place. He could not be overheard or seen here.

He pulled the hood further over his head, so that his face was completely obscured by the shadow, as he passed through a small beam of light. No one was outside this night as the night air was chilly and bitter. But this was good, for if he needed to make a hasty exit, then none would get in his way. So far, so good.

He extended a hand from the old cloak, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. A quiet hush fell on the people inside for but a few seconds as they looked at the doorway to view the newcomer. Thinking nothing of it, they continued with their business, much to the figures satisfaction.

He warily passed through the room to get to the back, so that he could get on with his business. The thick smoke hung in the air like a dense cloud, and he breathed it in deeply, relishing the taste and smell.

When he approached the bar, he was greeted by a red faced, middle-aged merry looking man, who held a cloth in one hand, and a tankard in the other. As he walked towards the bar, a slouched individual who was sat on the right in an equally old cloak quickly lowered his gaze back to the worn out wood on the bar.

"Good evening sir, and what would you like?" the barman asked, smiling. The hooded figure who had just entered kept his hood up, and spoke in a low, hoarse voice.

"A pint of your infamous White Tree Ale if you please." The barman nodded his head and went on to get this infamous ale. As the person delved into his pockets to retrieve some money, he rested his gaze once again on the individual that sat to his right at the bar. The individual shifted uncomfortably and spoke up to the barman as he stood.

"Another pint of your finest dwarven ale please," he (for a he it was that the individual turned out to be) said in a gruff voice, as he rose and made his way to a corner table that sat alone, half concealed in shadow. Still he did not remove his cloak. This intrigued the figure who still sat at the bar. _Why would that individual not remove his hood…?_

He once again delved into his pockets and pulled out an old, worn out pipe. As the barman passed him his White Tree Ale, he held it up, a silent question as to whether he could smoke it.

"Be my guest!" The barman smiled. "It is a tavern after all! Enjoy your ale, sir."

The hooded figure nodded his head in that same practised movement, in thanks. He pushed in some of his favourite foreign weed, and lit the pipe. Taking a large drag, he held it in for a few seconds, before slowly breathing it out. Passing the pipe to his left hand, he picked up the tankard by the handle, and took a swig of his favourite ale. He left it in his mouth, savouring the taste of it, before swallowing it. This was definitely a good reward at the end of a long few days.

The door to the tavern swung open for a second time, and once again, it became quiet in the tavern for a few seconds. In the corner of his eye, the figure saw the individual in the corner shift uncomfortably again. Wondering why, the figure took a deep swig of his pint, and twisted his head round to see who had just entered. He choked and coughed in surprise when he saw whom he recognised as the dwarf, Gimli. He quickly turned and faced the bar as the seemingly happy dwarf strolled up to the bar, whilst being greeted by various people in the tavern.

"Good evening Margon! I'll be having the usual, please."

"Right you are master Gimli. So where have you been this evening then?"

The figure listened intently at this, curious to know. He took another sip, whilst trying to remain invisible, as the dwarf sat himself down on stool to his left.

Gimli finally managed to sit up on the tall stool, and the figure could see the red cheeks on the dwarf. He had clearly already had a few pints.

"Went down to the tavern on the third floor, this evening. No offense Margon! Just a little change. Though I couldn't resist saying no to my favourite ale!" the dwarf grinned.

The figure took a note of this and mentally smiled. Yes, he had heard that the dwarf Gimli had managed to convince the barman on this level to order some dwarven ale every few weeks.

He watched as Margon called out to the individual in the corner, who sat patiently, that his order was on his way. He opened a door behind the bar, and went down to the basement to get the two pints of dwarvish ale.

Next to the figure, Gimli had just lit his pipe, and was taking a few puffs. He did the same himself, and listened in on the conversations that were going on around him.

"To the King!" A small toast cheered, "and to his beautiful Queen!" The figure smiled, as he thought of the Queen. Yes, she was indeed very beautiful. Behind him, another conversation was going on about the elf, Legolas.

"My daughter seems to just stare at him, when ever he walks past!"

"Yes, I can see why," the woman beside the man said. "He has a very fair face, and the way he walks and speaks too! Absolutely lovely."

"Alright, alright…"

The figure thought this amusing. The individual in the corner took a rather large swig of his ale.

The door behind the bar opened, and Margon carefully walked through, whilst somehow balancing two pints in one hand and a keg in the other. He put it down and wiped the sweat off of his brow.

"Here you are then, Gimli," he said, as he pushed a pint towards the merry, if slightly tipsy, dwarf. He walked out from behind the bar, and placed the other pint on the table in front of the hooded individual, who wearily took a sip.

OoooOOOoooO

An hour or so later, and many pints for the dwarf later, the tavern had grown quieter, with the lateness of the night. Many of the men had staggered off home, after waving a cheery bye to everyone. A few remained however, and were sat chatting merrily to Gimli, a good two-dozen empty tankards on their table. Margon was stood leaning on the bar, talking to some fellow customers.

The figure still sat at the bar, now on his fourth rewarding pint. The smoke from his pipe still wafted in the air, leaving its foreign smell distinguishable amongst the other smoke. He could hear the dwarf's slurred voice over the laughter and chatter, and concluded that the dwarf must now be very much drunk.

He turned and watched as the dwarf stood up to say farewell to one of the members of company he was with, and saw how dangerously he swayed. The man shook the dwarfs hand, and made his way to the tavern door, occasionally knocking into a few tables.

Surprisingly, as the man exited the tavern, the individual in the corner who was _still_ hooded, rose from his seat and followed the man outside. Frowning, the figure watched as the hooded individual walked across the tavern as though sober, despite the rather large amount he had drank.

The figure turned and spoke up to Margon. "Who was the person sat in that corner?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

The barman looked over in the direction the hooded figure was tilting his head towards. "Oh him? I can't say I know, he comes in here very rarely. Strange fellow," he added thoughtfully.

The figure nodded his head in thanks just as the door opened, and the hooded individual walked back through. He sat down and drained his tankard in one large gulp. The figure eyed him suspiciously.

"Right gents, I'm afraid it's time to close now, if you please," Margon said, as he rung the small brass bell.

Gimli looked up incredulously. "What?! No last orders?"

Margon smiled. "I'm afraid not Gimli, I think you have all had enough for one night. Come on, off you go."

The dwarf mumbled something incoherent, and stood up, swaying dangerously again. He picked up his tankard and placed it on the bar to return it whilst at the same time going to lean on the bar.

As though in slow motion, the figure watched as the dwarf completely missed the bar, and started falling towards him, having passed out. He made to get out of the way, but the dwarf collided with his stool and both went crashing down to the ground.

"Oh my goodness!" Margon exclaimed, as the figure got back to his feet, rubbing a bruise that was forming on his arm. The barman looked down at the dwarf and then up at the figure, whose hood had fallen down amidst the chaos. "Oh my! My Lord! Are, are you all right? Oh my!"

The 'figure' stood back up gingerly on his feet, his grey eyes shining with mirth, as he brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes. The others in the tavern sat opened mouthed, and quickly bowed their heads.

"Aye, I am fine thank-you. It seems my cover has been blown, thanks to my good friend." He smiled.

The barman did not know what to say. "You - you were - all this time, and the other times?" he spluttered.

Aragorn smiled at the barman. "Yes, and I must say, that White Tree Ale of yours really is excellent."

"You should have told me! I could have saved you a quiet room!"

"No, there is no need," Aragorn said, smiling as he waved away the barman's comment. "Really, I enjoy coming here and listening to Minas Tirith's people as a citizen. It is a nice break. So do not bow your heads, my friends. When I am here, I am your friend, not your King." He turned to face the hooded individual, who had remained the same through all of this. "If my disguise has been uncovered, I think it is time for you to remove yours, mellon-nin," he grinned.

The hooded individual sighed and stood up. He pulled down his cloak to reveal two bright eyes on a porcelain face, long blonde hair braided with two pointed ears poking out. "Aye, so it would seem, mellon-nin." Legolas smiled.

He walked up beside Aragorn and too, placed his tankard on the bar next to Gimli's.

The barman looked gobsmacked. Three of the most important people held in high regard in Minas Tirith, in _his _tavern!

"When did you realise that it was me?" the elf enquired, smiling at the shocked barman.

"Legolas, how many men can walk so soberly after having goodness knows how many pints of a dwarvish ale? And since when did you start drinking it?!"

Legolas smiled again. "Since Gimli challenged me to a drinking re-match after I beat him in Edoras. I have been trying to get accustomed to the taste," he said grimly. "That man who walked out of the tavern earlier was going to tell me how many pints it took Gimli to drink before he would pass out. And by the sound of it, I don't think I have a very high chance of beating him tomorrow night. Although, it does take a lot to get a wood-elf tipsy… but that is strong stuff…"

Trailing off, Legolas turned to face the barman and thanked him for the drinks, which Aragorn imitated.

"I'll have to try some of your best wine next time," Legolas said, smiling.

"And I'll be back for that excellent White Tree Ale," Aragorn added.

"Any time, my Lords!" Margon said bowing. "Thank-you."

"No," Aragorn said. "Thank-you." Both he and the elf bowed their heads.

They then bent down, and helped the semi-conscious, yet thoroughly drunk dwarf to his feet, and escorted him out of the tavern.

Legolas breathed in deep. "Thank the Valar," he said. "That is a nice little tavern, but the smoke is too much! It made doing a gruff voice easier."

Aragorn grinned as they slowly walked up the quiet, paved streets in no rush. "So you often go in there then?" he asked. Legolas looked at him arching an eyebrow. "Margon told me when I asked, when you went out for a few minutes."

Legolas' musical laughter filled the streets. "There is a rather nice wine in there I enjoy once in a while." He saw Aragorn looking at him suspiciously. "It is only the sixth, maybe seventh time I have been in there! Alright, eighth," he admitted.

"And how did you find Gimli's ale he has challenged you with then?" Aragorn asked.

"It is truly vile. I was hoping that with every pint, it might taste a bit nicer. I was clearly wrong."

Aragorn's laughter joined in with the elf's, as they both made their way past the guards on the gate, carrying a semi-conscious dwarf. The guards raised their eyebrows as their eyes followed the celebrated trio heading towards the citadel in the late hours of the night.


	2. Paranoid Elf

**Chapter two: Paranoid Elf.**

The next day dawned promising with its weather. Legolas sat upon a branch on a favourite tree of his in Arwen's private garden and sighed as the suns first rays hit his face, making his hair shine out like a halo. Despite the beautiful sunrise, a mounting worry was building up within him, threatening to explode. Last night had gone wrong. Aragorn had realised it was him who sat in the corner (though at the time he did not really mind), though thankfully Gimli had been to drunk to notice their presence. Actually, he thought, the fact that Gimli had not realised he had been in the tavern trying to get used to the vile dwarven ale he would be drinking tonight was a bit of a blessed miracle. Unless Aragorn was to tell the dwarf… Legolas unconsciously gulped at the thought of the dwarf's taunts that would follow. No… he thought. Aragorn wouldn't do that… would he?

"Good morning, mellon-nin!" Aragorn called out brightly. Legolas frowned at the merry voice his friend held. It seemed uncharacteristically bright for Aragorn this early in the morning… in fact; Legolas deemed it as almost suspicious, false even.

"And a good morning to you also, mellon-nin," Legolas answered suspiciously. He stole a quick glance at the orange morning sun and carefully leapt down the branches, landing smoothly and lightly on his feet. He straightened his back and narrowed his eyes as he saw Aragorn, who was leaning casually against the tree, an apple in his hand. "The last time you were this merry in the morning, you, Elladan and Elrohir were planning something, if I rightly recall."

Aragorn merely shrugged and took another bite of his apple. Legolas frowned at Aragorn's behaviour and folded his arms, his eyebrows raised in a well-I-am-waiting pose.

"You know," Aragorn called out between bites, "right now I could compare you to an impatient elfling." He took a final bite of the apple, and threw the core in the bushes.

Legolas tilted his head towards the apple core lying below Arwen's rose bushes. "Arwen will kill you if she catches you doing that."

Aragorn shrugged again, and resumed his observation of his elven friend, who was becoming slightly unnerved by the mischievous scrutiny he was under.

"I am sorry, but do I have something on me that I should know about?" he asked, trying to ignore the self-conscious feeling that was rising up within him.

Aragorn smiled like a child and shook his head. "No."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the King of Gondor, growing tired of this game, not to mention getting nervous. "Well?" he enquired.

"Well what?"

"Aragorn,"

"Yes?"

Legolas uncrossed his arms and let out a frustrated sigh. "You are acting like a child, Aragorn."

Aragorn looked up slightly, a contemplating frown forming across his face. "Hmmm, perhaps I am," he admitted.

Legolas looked at his odd acting friend, placing him under the scrutiny he was being put under. Aragorn however continued to keep his eye contact, his grey eyes shining with mischief and mirth.

Finally, Legolas broke eye contact. "Why are you up so early?" he enquired.

Aragorn cast a look of feign hurt at this comment, but the mirth still shone brightly in his eyes. "Apologies, I did not realise it was a crime to walk in one's own gardens this time in the morning,"

Legolas raised his eyes to the heavens in a most un-princely manner. "Estel, what are you up to?"

"Me? Absolutely nothing, Legolas. I am simply observing you," he added with a sweet smile.

"Why?" Legolas asked suspiciously.

"I am just curious to see how you react after a few pints of specially made dwarven ale."

"Pints?"

"Aye, Legolas, pints. You know, the plural of pint."

Legolas swallowed, unsure of where this conversation was going, yet certain that it was not going to be good for him. "And what makes you so sure I had more than a pint?"

Aragorn's grin got even wider. "You said yourself last night, and I quote," he added raising his eyebrows, "'I was hoping that with every pint, it might taste nicer.'"

Legolas paled slightly and frowned. "I did?"

Aragorn laughed, the laughter lines around his eyes showing clearly. "Aye, and you, Legolas of the wood-elves, admitted that you quite liked the tavern." Aragorn allowed this to sink in before continuing, "And if I rightly remember in times of the past, mellon-nin, you vowed on numerous occasions that you would never like a tavern."

Legolas closed his eyes in defeat. "Oh Valar, I do not recall even saying that,"

Aragorn let out a fresh laugh, making Legolas tense slightly. "Mellon-nin, how many pints did you drink?" He watched as Legolas opened his eyes in an attempt to recollect events of the night before, though to his disturbance, found that he could not. Aragorn grinned. "Very well, we can return to that question, but here is another, did you or did you not admit that you fear that you do not have a very high chance of beating Gimli tonight?"

Legolas opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again as he realised that, once again, he could not answer Aragorn's questions. Aragorn beamed at the elven prince's stunned silence.

"So," Aragorn said slowly, "you have let a, erm, dwarf, best you, Legolas prince of the wood-elves. I wonder what our dwarven friend, or any friend would say should they find out…" his eyes gleamed with an amusement that Legolas was right to assume would not bode well with him at all. Aragorn whistled under his breath, "and what if your father was to find out…?"

Legolas' face went paler still with the thought of his pride being shattered. "You wouldn't…" he breathed. Aragorn merely smiled, and pushed himself off of the tree.

"Oh, I don't know, mellon-nin, we will have to see how it goes today…" he gave Legolas a sweet and seemingly innocent smile before turning around and leaving Legolas to stand stunned.

Legolas was confused, and gobsmacked to say the least. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't all too aware of just how much he drank of the vile dwarven ale last night. Well, he mused, not realising that he said the same thing the night before, at least it takes a lot to make a wood-elf tipsy…

He shook his head at these thoughts, but stopped abruptly when his head began to ache. Stop being so stupid you paranoid elf, he scorned to himself.

Clearing his throat, he held back his shoulders and ventured back towards the citadel, knowing that many would now be awake with the dawn of the new day.

As he passed through the elven styled archway, he watched as the guards of the citadel swapped their posts with others to go and enjoy some rest and breakfast made by the incredible cooks in the kitchens near the houses of healing. Legolas smiled, as he also remembered Mistress Gamgee, Rosie, and her admirable skills in the kitchen as well as her lovely personality. He would have to write to the hobbits, he decided, for it had been many weeks since last he had.

Legolas' stomach gave a small growl as he watched the changing of the citadel guards, and decided that he too might fancy a bite to eat.

In the kitchens, the woman in charge, Iruthel, stood above a pot of porridge, her cheeks red with the heat. Legolas knocked on the door, and lightly stepped in.

"Good morning, my lord!" she called out cheerily. She put down the large wooden spoon, and wiped her hands in her apron, as Legolas bowed his head slightly in her direction. Iruthel gave a small chuckle and waved away the bow, though her cheeks were now not only red from the steam of the porridge. "And what can I do for you, me dear?"

Legolas smiled a gracious smile and stepped forward. "If you are not too busy my lady, then I would ask if I could trouble you for a piece of fruit?"

So fair and polite! thought Iruthel caringly as she pulled out a chair for Legolas. The elf bowed his head in thanks, and presented her with a warm smile. "Master elf, I think you may need more than a piece of fruit! You have hardly any meat on your bones! Now you just sit there whilst I serve up some porridge."

Legolas made to stand in protest, but the kindly head cook waved him back to sit down. "My lady Iruthel, if you are busy and the porridge is for the guards, then I must protest," he objected.

"Nonsense!" She said as she filled up a bowl and placed it down in front of him. "There you are," she said smiling.

Legolas picked up the spoon and began to eat, savouring the creamy taste it held. Iruthel watched him with a smile, and turned to another pot that was stewing over another fire. So polite that elf, she thought to herself, and such good manners too! The gondorian woman picked up some ground herbs and lifted the lid off of the pot, allowing a sweet, fresh smell to escape into the room. She inhaled deeply and stirred the herbs with the other contents.

A few minutes later, Legolas had finished his bowl clean, and had set the spoon in the bowl tidily, a content smile on his face.

"Lady Iruthel that was delicious, thank you," he said placing a hand on his heart and sweeping it out as was the elven way. Iruthel blushed. "May I enquire as to what that lovely aroma was?" he asked, as he stood up and made to take the empty bowl towards a large container.

"Leave that there, dear, I will sort it out," she said. "This is a little family secret that was passed on to me by my mother. I thought it may come in use for tomorrow morning after the merry making tonight." She paused at the slightly confused look that had graced Legolas' face. "'Tis a hangover cure."

Legolas nearly dropped the bowl and spoon he was holding, but managed to quickly pull out a fast reflex.

"A hangover cure…?" he repeated quietly, the self-conscious feeling of dread rising again.

"Yes. Are you all right dear?" she asked, slightly startled at the elf's paler than usual face.

Legolas put down the bowl, whilst trying to rake his brain to come up with a reasonable explanation. Aragorn… he thought. Now that is hardly reasonable.

"My lady, has the King been in here this morning?"

"Yes," Iruthel answered slowly, just as confused as Legolas.

Legolas took a breath and tried to regain control of the anxiety within him. "Did he say anything about drinking?"

Iruthel raised her eyebrows. "Well, of course he did, if I am making a hangover cure!" she laughed.

Legolas gulped, and then forced a smile on his face. "I apologise for the questions, my lady. Now if you will allow, I have some duties that require my attendance."

Legolas bowed his head and made the same elven thanks as earlier, before walking hurriedly out of the kitchens, leaving a rather confused woman in his wake.

One of the other kitchen women, this one younger, walked through the doorway with some freshly picked herbs in her hands. She frowned at the sight of the head cook, who was standing with a confused look upon her round face.

"Iruthel? What is wrong?"

Iruthel blinked and shook her head. "Oh! It is nothing, dear. Lord Legolas just started to act a bit strange after he asked about his hangover cure."

Legolas began walking towards the main halls, feeling slightly unnerved. Aragorn was clearly behind this, he thought. _You are just being paranoid, elf, _his rational side said, _you are just nervous about the fact that Gimli might beat you tonight with the drinking!_

Valar, Legolas thought, this is going to be a long day.


	3. Taunting King

Chapter three: Taunting King.

Faramir was bent low over a ridiculously large pile of paper, frowning to himself as he observed the figures. He straightened his back and counted to himself how many guests would be attending tonight's feast.

"Forty three," he thought out loud, frowning further still. He thought there was only to be forty guests tonight…

He gave a sigh and placed down his quill on top of the pile, deciding the most logical explanation was that he had simply missed out some numbers.

Trying to take his mind from his wearisome work, he walked over to his vast bookcase in his study room, and pulled out a favourite book of his, a book on elven lore, given to him by Legolas for his birthday a few years previously.

He pulled out the blue bound book, and made his way to a chair besides the window. He leant against the back of his chair, and propped his left elbow on the side as he opened the book to reveal a beautiful, intricate painting of an elven dwelling, somewhere deep within a luscious green forest. Greenwood the Great, he had been told, the home of Legolas.

After running his eyes over the painting numerous times, he turned the page to present another, though this one was filled with tidy and precise elvish. _A beautiful language, _thought Faramir, as he began to read.

He read the first paragraph, but frowned when he realised he had not taken in any of the last two lines. He tried again.

_Forty three? Where did the extra three come from? Stop thinking about it!_

He changed position and re-read the last two lines.

_Perhaps not all of the guests had been accounted for … stop thinking!_

Slamming his book shut with an exasperated sigh, Faramir let his head hang backwards, before deciding to do something about the mysterious three before it sent him mad.

Setting down the book on the side table, the young steward stood and made his way over to the door, which he opened, just as a hand had begun to open the door the other side.

"Legolas!" Faramir exclaimed, his heart racing, as it does usually does after getting a fright. Not that Legolas was a fright.

"Faramir, I apologise for making you jump," the elf said bowing his blonde head.

The young steward returned the gesture before smiling. "Something must be on your mind, my friend, for you to not hear someone on the other side of a door," he said gently.

Legolas smiled and gave a small nervous laugh. "Nothing is wrong, I am just…" he paused, trying to come up with a fairly decent answer. "It has been a strange morning," he concluded.

Faramir looked at him with a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes. "Well, if you call you not being yourself and seeming rather distressed normal, than please by all means do." He stopped, his eyes twinkling. "Though, this means I will have to back Gimli up with his view that elves answer in riddles. Never a yes or a no." He laughed at Legolas who had raised his eyebrows, a smile also on his face.

"I look forward to seeing what else my dwarven friend has to say on the subject of elves tonight, especially when he is not sober," Legolas smirked, whilst at the same time trying to reassure himself that he was not going to be beaten by a dwarf at a drinking game. Then he remembered his earlier conversation with Aragorn about the night previously.

"Legolas?"

Legolas snapped out of his thoughts and forced a smile.

"You sort of fazed out for a moment there. Are you sure you are well?" The concern in Faramir's voice was obvious.

"Honestly, mellon-nin, all is well," Legolas reassured the man as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let us go out for some air."

Faramir relaxed at this. "Actually, I was about to do the very thing. These numbers for tonight are swamping my mind."

Legolas let out a musical laugh, "Estel has miscounted for the feast tonight then has he? Numbers was never one of his strengths," he let out.

Faramir frowned, though a smile was still on his face, "you mean to tell me that my king has his faults? Never…"

Legolas and Faramir both let out a laugh at the feigned shock in Faramir's voice.

"Valar, trying to get an eight year Estel to do his number work when all he wanted to do was play was nothing short of strenuous work. By the end of it, I had given up and allowed Estel to persuade me to play with him instead." He smiled to himself at the fond memories, as another sprang to mind. "Although, he was worse when it came to his bath times when he was but five."

Faramir chuckled. "This does sound good, do carry on," he laughed, eager to hear of Aragorn's earlier days.

"One night in particular, he refused to have a bath, unless I was in the bathing chamber with him. He sat in the bath, and I on the chair beside, and all he did was play with his boats." Legolas shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I turned around for but a minute to get him some dry clothes, and he was gone! I ran out in panic, trying to find him, only to hear Lord Erestor bellowing his name and various other curses." He stopped for a minute, laughing silently to himself at the memory, and the look on Erestor's face. "I ran in to see Estel singing and dancing on Erestor's table, in naught but his skin!"

Both let out a large laugh, and stopped walking for a moment. Trying to regain his breath, Faramir leant against the wall, his eyes shut, though chuckles still escaped his lips.

"You were easy to find! All I had to do was follow the laughter," called out a voice just behind them.

Faramir attempted a straight face, and bowed towards Aragorn who had entered the scene, a look of mischief in his eyes also. Legolas however, was quite the contrary.

"What is it you were laughing at then? Dare I ask," Aragorn chuckled.

Legolas spoke up before Faramir could answer. "'Tis nothing, Estel."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow that made Legolas inwardly wince. "Nothing? Mellon-nin, you were laughing like a drunken person might laugh…"

Faramir too raised an eyebrow at this comment, beginning to realise that something was going on between the two. He looked at Legolas, only to see that the mirth had died from his eyes, and had been replaced with… was that dread?

"I do not know what you are talking about, Aragorn. It was merely an exchange of childhood goings on, and other things," Legolas replied.

Aragorn smirked at Legolas before changing his expression to a look of concern. "Mellon-nin, are you well? You look… rather bad…" He turned to Faramir. "Do you not think so, Faramir?"

The young steward, though slightly confused by the conversation, answered. "I have been saying that since I met him earlier, though he is adamant that he is fine."

"I agree, he looks rather… flustered."

Legolas looked at Faramir then at Aragorn, and back again. "You two are aware I am present, are you not?" Legolas asked rather heatedly, knowing full well where Aragorn was going with this.

Aragorn looked at his elven friend and blinked, amusement shining brightly within his grey eyes again. He gave a cheeky grin before deciding to inspect his fingers, aware of Faramir's questioning look and Legolas' irritated gaze.

"Why yes, mellon-nin, I am. Are you aware of things now?" he asked innocently. Aragorn tore his eyes away from his fingers and looked up at Legolas who was becoming annoyed, as well as rather edgy.

Faramir's eyes moved between the two who were acting like children. Aragorn was stood like a smug teenager, whilst Legolas was looking annoyed and rather pale. He cleared his throat and decided to speak up before Legolas would begin to throttle Aragorn, which he looked ready to do.

"May I ask what on earth is going on between you two?" he asked cautiously. This gave a rather unexpected reaction from the King and Elf-Lord stood before him. Aragorn's grin had got, if possible, even wider, and Legolas' eyes had widened slightly as he slowly began to shake his head side to side, whilst staring intently at Aragorn.

Both opened their mouths to speak at the same time.

"Nothing-"

"-My dear friend here has been taking some night time strolls around the city, and has been coming back rather… confused," Aragorn said whilst keeping eye contact with the now pale elf, who swallowed nervously.

Faramir looked at Legolas with a concerned look. "Is everything well? What has been going on?"

Legolas mouthed a don't-you-even-think-about-it to Aragorn who replaced his grin with feigned shock and hurt.

"Mellon-nin, since you asked so nicely, I think I will have to comply with Faramir's wish and answer his question."

Legolas swallowed again, and anxiously flexed his fingers, which he realised were now sweaty along with his palms.

Turning to face Faramir, Legolas bowed his head. "My Lords, I am needed elsewhere, so if you will excuse me, I will see you tonight at the…" He breathed in a sigh. "At the feast."

Legolas bowed again, and turned around, not before shooting a dark look at Aragorn who just smiled merrily. This did nothing to ease the self-conscious feeling within him.

Faramir still bore his slightly perplexed look, but raised his eyebrows and in turn, bowed his head towards Legolas. "Indeed you shall, mellon-nin."

With that, Legolas was on his heels and walking as fast as he could away from the scene, without actually running. He tried to ignore the voices that he was picking up with his keen elven hearing as he moved away from the pair.

_Trust Aragorn! _he thought angrily. _Valar, he really does know how to wind someone up!_

_Though, _said another voice, _you were telling stories of him from when he was younger…_

_Shut up! They were hardly pride shattering!_

Legolas blinked as he stepped outside again, whilst willing away the voices in his mind that were doing nothing to help him feel any better.

He prayed to the Valar that Aragorn had not heard him let out embarrassing stories of the young human child, else by now Faramir would too be aware of what had occurred the night previously, _and _he would know what to expect tonight.

Legolas groaned at the thought. He was not looking forward to tonight. At all. He winced at the prospect of possibly getting drunk, and therefore making a fool of himself in front of all he knew. Coming to think about it, Aragorn had never actually seen him drunk. Tipsy, yes, but that was completely different. _That is probably why the stupid man is revelling in my misery._

Legolas breathed in a lungful of air to calm himself down a bit. _Well, _he thought. _It could be worse… I might meet Gimli before this evening…_

He let out another groan at this prospect.

"Looks like this elf is going to have to remain inconspicuous for the day then," he said to himself dryly.

OoooOOOoooO

Faramir looked at Aragorn who was walking besides him. "So, what was all of that about? Dare I ask?"

Aragorn grinned and lightly clapped the young steward on the shoulder. "That, my friend, is something that I can guarantee you will find out tonight." He laughed and continued walking. "I wanted to come and see you, as I have added three guests to tonight's feast list." He paused and smiled again as a look of relief and understanding washed over Faramir's face. "I am guessing you noticed them too then?"

Faramir returned the smile. "Yes, I kept thinking I had gone wrong some where… who are the mysterious three?"

Aragorn's face was lit up by a rather impish grin. "I shall not say who, but no doubt that all will be happy to see them again." Faramir looked at Aragorn with one eyebrow raised. "I shall just say that you and Eowyn will be especially pleased to see one of them, whilst Arwen and I would feel the same about the other two. Legolas would usually, though after tonight, he may not."

Faramir thought for a moment as to who it could be, but then it dawned on him. He nodded his head in understanding, and too, grinned.

"Legolas is going to love you tomorrow if I am guessing correctly about tonight!"


	4. Unexpected Day

Chapter four: Unexpected day.

As the sun beat her warm rays on the gleaming white city below, a rather tense elf pulled his hood over the his head, covering his recognisable hair and pointed ears as he kept his eyes fixed on the white stone floor beneath his feet.

The fifth floor to the city was not as busy as usual. In fact, it seemed almost too quiet – especially seeing as it was market day. The accustomed sounds of adults discussing prices and events of the day were almost absent, as were the familiar sounds of laughter emitting from children running around the alleyways, whilst being scolded by their parents for exciting the dogs to the extent that they would not stop barking.

Legolas frowned at the strange quietness that had fallen over the city. _This floor at least,_ he thought suspiciously.

Trying to repress the familiar paranoid feeling of the looming feast, Legolas concentrated on putting one light booted foot in front of the other. The sight of a hooded person skulking along the white stone side nearest the centre of the city was going to look suspicious, and a confrontation was not something he was wishing to obtain or partake in for the time being. Especially not on this floor after the events of the previous night that were still fresh in his mind.

He quickened his pace as he walked past one of the stone buildings in a little alleyway to his right that was, by the sounds of it, playing host to the midday tavern drinkers. He ignored the three men stood outside the tavern, pints in one hand and pipes in the other, and they in turn ignored him.

When he had passed the three men and was out of the sight of them and the tavern, Legolas let his tense body relax slightly.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed at being seen in the tavern, it was just that he was embarrassed at being discovered drinking some vile dwarven ale in preparation for a drinking game. Not that he considered dwarves an embarrassment, for he had learnt to respect them – Gimli, especially. But the thought of being caught trying to prepare for a drinking game was… humiliating. He did not feel embarrassed at being seen in the tavern, whether alone or not, for he had sneaked out into Mirkwood's wine cellars (royal and not so) many times during his youth to accomplish partially the same reason as to why he did not want to be seen in the tavern. So that he could be a citizen himself, for once. _But you were still caught preparing for a drinking game! _

spoke up a voice.

Annoyed that he had been unable to deter his mind from the looming feast declaring doom to his pride, Legolas sighed in frustration as he continued to journey down the winding levels to the fourth floor.

So wrapped up was he in his self pitying thoughts, Legolas failed to notice, and hear, the voices of many Gondorians gathering on the battlements and sides of the path leading up to the middle of each level.

As he passed through the gates, he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes brushed over the heads of the people.

_What. Is. Going. On. Here_, he asked himself. _So this is where everyone has gone…_

Legolas passed the gate guards who remained faithfully at their post, and found himself at the back end of the crowd. The guards, although at their posts, completely ignored the hooded person stepping through the gates, as they craned their necks to try and view the source of the commotion.

Ensuring that his hood was definitely up, despite the heat of the sun, Legolas blended seamlessly into the crowd before him, finding it surprisingly easy to weave his way around the Gondorians with soft-footed steps.

The talking and laughing was all quite loud for Legolas' sensitive ears, with him catching snippets of conversations here and there.

"Can you see them?" he heard one woman ask as she stood on her toes.

"No, I don't think they've entered the gates yet!"

Frowning with curiosity, Legolas slipped past the two brown haired women and continued to pass his way through the crowd that was quickly becoming more busy and louder.

He was nearly thrown off of his feet when three young boys ran past his legs, waving sticks at each other. Legolas' knee buckled on impact and he staggered into the side of a man, grabbing hold of his shoulder, as it was the first thing he could reach.

A few gasps were emitted from the surrounding people as Legolas almost fell into the man, who jumped in surprise.

Finding his feet, the Gondorian man grasped Legolas' forearm and pulled the hooded elf to his feet.

"Are you alright, lad?" the man asked, as Legolas smoothed the front of his tunic.

"Aye," Legolas said, silently thanking the Valar that his hood had miraculously remained on. "I apologise for that."

The man waved his hand as though to brush away the comment. "Don't worry. Children will be children!" The Gondorian smiled, but paused as his eyes stole a sudden glance at the front of Legolas' green tunic. His mouth hung open, and he immediately began stuttering, but Legolas placed a hand on the man's shoulder, suddenly thankful the loud crowd that concealed his voice.

"Do not worry, friend. It would be much appreciated if you did not tell of my presence here today. At least, not to the crowd," he asked softly.

The man bowed his head in respect. "I shall, my Lord."

Legolas smiled despite having his hood up and squeezed the man's shoulder in thanks before he turned and walked away into the thick of the crowd.

The elf felt his heart calming down from it's rapid beating, and decided to change course towards the battlements on the outer edge of the level in order to get a better view – and hopefully away from the busiest part of the crowd.

Just as Legolas was finally starting to feel calmer than when he had been up in the Citadel, the sounds of large mithril gates opening hit his sharp ears. Whipping his head round and placing his hands on the gleaming white battlements, Legolas cast his blue eyes to Minas Tirith's main gate, three floors below.

"They've passed through the gates!" a voice cried out, and all faces turned towards where Legolas had already been facing.

Riding through, hundreds of feet below where Legolas now stood, a small group of riders passed through the gates and rode across the first level. Legolas cocked his head to one side slightly as he distinguished the riders with his keen eyes.

He caught the sight of blonde hair flowing behind one of the three riders, who were in front of what seemed to be a small group of guards. Looking harder, Legolas blinked when he recognised the Rohirric attire. _Eomer…? _he thought as he frowned in confusion. _So whom are the other two riders accompanying hi – ah._

Legolas' eyes widened as he caught sight of the two raven haired beings he knew so well riding to the left of Eomer, their posture a look of perfection courtesy of their elven origins.

"They are on the second level!"

What were Elladan, Elrohir and Eomer doing in minas Tirith? Not that it was a bad thing, but surely Aragorn would have tol….

Legolas suddenly stepped back as something Faramir had said earlier replayed in his mind, causing a feeling of dread to wash over him. _"These numbers for tonight are swamping my mind…."_

Aragorn knew exactly what he was doing. Valar, had he been planning all of this just for he and Gimli's re-match? _He must have been. How often do we have a feast where guests from other lands come too?_

"Make room! They are approaching the third level!"

"Calthor get away from the wall!"

"Make way!"

Legolas felt as though the whole of Minas Tirith and time had started to go in slow motion. People were shouting for everyone to stand to the sides, whilst his elven ears could pick up the sound of horse hooves getting closer and closer.

_Valar, do not let them see me!_

"Calthor!"

With his hood still up to hide his distinctive features, Legolas whipped his head round to hear the source of the women's distressed cry. Following her gaze as she tried to reach towards the battlements, Legolas saw that a boy of about six was tiptoeing to gain a better look at the riders, less than two or so metres away from him.

How could he have missed a child that was so close to danger? Time seemed to slow further still as he twisted his body round to face the young boy, who lost his footing as the crowd backed up to the sides, oblivious of the boys cries and his mother's frantic cries. All the while, the hooves were getting louder and louder.

His elven instincts kicking in, Legolas lithely pushed his body towards the small boy, using agility and speed that only the Firstborn were capable of, and grabbed the child around the middle as he began to fall.

Gradually, time seemed to speed up, and the sounds around him that had appeared muted as he ran towards the boy were raised again, making him almost flinch at the sudden loudness.

Looking at the boy he held around the waist, Legolas felt him shake, his brown eyes wide with fear as he looked into Legolas' slightly flushed face.

"Calthor!" The woman screamed in relief, as she ran towards Legolas, holding her arms out to take the child.

"Mama!" he answered, as Legolas lifted him slightly, so that he held him comfortably, the boy sitting on his arm, whilst his other supported the child's back.

Legolas passed Calthor to his mother, who began showering her boy in kisses.

"Are you alright? Don't ever wonder from me again!" Legolas heard her say as he turned away with a smile upon his face. Her tone of voice seeming more out of relief than anger. "Wait!"

Legolas heard the word directed at him, and turned around, his hood sill on.

"Thank you! You have my thanks for until the day I die! You have no idea what I would have… if he… I would…" she broke off in tears as the realisation that she had nearly lost her son hit her. Several onlookers turned their attention away from the riders and watched the scene between Legolas and the mother.

Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort and placed a hand on Calthor's back. "My Lady, do not dwell on what could have happened, for it did not. Your son is with you now, is he not? He is in your arms, safer than he could ever be. I merely did what any other person would have done," he said with a soft voice in reassurance.

He felt something playing with his hair, and looked down at his shoulder to see a few strands of his golden hair being twirled around Calthor's fingers, a look of awe on the young boy's face.

"Cal! Stop playing with this gentleman's hair," she scolded, slightly embarrassed by her son's behaviour.

Legolas let out a small laugh as Calthor gave a small pout. "But it's nice, mama! The same colour as Lord Legolas!"

The Lord in question tensed at the child's observation, and quickly looked to see how far away Eomer and the twins were now. He could see their heads.

He returned his gaze to the boy, who was trying to argue that Lord Legolas was the only one he had ever seen with golden hair.

"But Lord Legolas has bright gold coloured hair! And he is a really good archer as well! _And_, he is an elf!" Calthor explained, sounding, if possible for a six year old, exasperated.

"Alright, that is enough, Cal," his mother said, trying to calm him down. She cast an apologetic look towards Legolas; unbeknown as to whom he was, as though saying a silent apology for her son's words. "Look now, you've missed seeing Lords Elladan and Elrohir, and King Eomer!"

Legolas felt a rush of relief pass through him at these words. Calthor, however, craned his neck to where the crowd was dispersing, and slouched his shoulders, a crest fallen look on his face. The mother bounced him a few times, trying to cheer him up. "Come on now, Cal. There will be plenty of other times to see them. Now, say thank you to…" she trailed off, looking up at Legolas.

Legolas smiled. "Legolas," he said softly, bowing his head to Calthor and his mother.

A mixture of emotions washed over the mothers face as Legolas said his name, but eventually her face displayed shock. Calthor, however, suddenly perked up at the name.

"Legolas? Lord Legolas?"

Legolas let out a small laugh and raised a hand to his hood, pulling it off, revealing golden hair bright in the sunlight and pointed ears. "You are most observant, little one," he said, feeling more relaxed at the thought that the twins and Eomer wouldn't be able to see him. _That is twice in two days now I have been discovered!_

Calthor's mother blinked a few times, and then suddenly looked at Legolas as though he had just appeared out of thin air. "My, my Lord! I am so grateful…" She bowed her head and performed a curtsey before the elf, who put a light hand on her elbow in a silent and gentle attempt to stop her.

"My Lady, please. I did what any other person would have done," he repeated with a reassuring smile. "Now, if you will forgive me, I have… pressing matters to attend to before this day is gone, so I must beg you for your leave."

A look of pleasant shock was made evident on Calthor's mother, at the kind words being directed at her making her blush slightly. Calthor however, began bouncing in his mother's arms in excitement.

"Like a secret mission?" he asked excitedly. "Can you tell me? Are you going to use your bow? Where is it?"

"Calthor! Don't speak to Lords like that! Where are your manners?"

"But I'm only asking!"

Legolas let out a laugh at the young boys enthusiasm, reminding him of Estel when he was that age. "Yes, Calthor. It is just like a secret mission. Unfortunately," he said with a smile in response to the numerous questions asked. "I cannot tell you; else it will not be secret. But I will not be using my bow this time."

Calthor's smiled faltered slightly at Legolas' gentle words, and lowered his head a bit in disappointment. An idea quickly popped into Legolas' head, and he placed a hand under the boys chin and raised gently it so that Calthor was looking at him.

"Would you still like to see my bow, little one?"

Calthor instantly forgot that he was feeling down as a he began to bounce excitedly again. "Yes! Can I see you shoot it?"

Legolas smiled and put on a contemplating face. "Well, I shall give you a secret mission if you wish."

"Yes please!"

"If you are good for your mother, help her out and stay away from the battlements, then I will come down either tomorrow or the day after, and take you up to the top level on my horse, and you can watch me shoot, and I will teach you how," Legolas said seriously, his eyes twinkling.

Calthor's mouth dropped open as his mother began blinking and wordlessly moving her mouth in surprise. "Yes please!" the eager Calthor squealed in delight.

Legolas smiled at Calthor's enthusiasm, and arched an elegant eyebrow. "Are you sure you are up to that?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Alright then, this is your secret mission. Your mother will tell me whether or not you have been good."

Calthor nodded solemnly and gestured the my-lips-are-sealed movement. Legolas nodded his head at the boy in approval and then met the gaze of his mother.

"I apologise, for I should of asked you first, my Lady. Is this alright with you?" Legolas asked, a serious expression on his face.

Calthor's mother set him down and allowed the young boy to run over to one of the market stalls near the wall. She straightened her back and returned her gaze to Legolas, who had thankfully forgotten the approaching event for this evening. Fortunately, the crowd had also dispersed, so Legolas did not have to really worry about being seen by anyone.

"Of course it is alright, my Lord. But are you sure?" she blushed as she questioned Legolas. "I mean, we are both most grateful, and…" she broke off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Legolas' eyes widened slightly at the sudden shaking in her voice and tears in her eyes. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to compose herself, whilst Legolas remained where he was, waiting patiently and not wanting to force her into saying anything.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, the unshed tears still remaining. "Its just that Cal hasn't had the chance to do this sort of thing for over two years now. His father was killed when this city was under attack…"

Legolas placed a caring hand on her shoulder, and thought about how hard for her it would have been to lose her son just now as well. "I am sorry, for it was not my intent to bring back such memories."

"No, it is fine. Honestly. I was just being silly." She breathed in a large lungful of air and exhaled slowly, looking at her son as she did so. "I thank you, for showing such kindness."

Legolas gave her another reassuring smile, and then looked to the sky, his heart lurching as he did. It was late afternoon, and he needed to get ready for the evening, the remembrance of it had just hit him like a brick wall, making his face go slightly pale.

"My lord?"

Legolas snapped out of his nervous thoughts, and returned his gaze to Calthor's mother, who was looking at him concernedly.

"Sorry, I must be off now, for I have things that must be done."

"Of course! Sorry for keeping you busy."

"It is fine. It has been a pleasure to meet you and Calthor, my Lady, and I will see you in the next few days."

With that, Legolas bowed his head, and turned, raising his hood as he began to lightly walk up to the citadel at a fast pace.

The elf smiled to himself as he continued up the stone levels of the city, despite the fact that his nerves were beginning to make themselves known again. He had always liked to help others, but the fact that he had just saved this boys life, and saved his mother from further emotional torment, made him equally thankful that he had decided to come on down to the lower levels to avoid Gimli and Aragorn – even if he had seen the twins and Eomer.

He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts as he passed through the gates of the fifth floor, allowing the sound of birds from the gardens on the higher levels to fill his sharp ears with the sweet sound of nature.

But, as he continued walking, the familiar feeling of anticipation began to creep up on him. He frowned, and picked up his pace to a light jog up the remaining two levels as he tried to calm himself.

Why was he acting like a nervous, paranoid elfling? His thoughts suddenly exploding in his mind at full speed. As Elf Lord of Ithilien and crowned prince of Greenwood, such a trivial thing should not bother him so much! Although, his pride was at stake… not to mention dignity…

Legolas continued his jogging up the levels, and slowed down to a walk as he made his way over to his room to prepare for the evenings feast. Maybe he needed to relax a bit more… for one night, at least. After all, it was not the end of the world if he made a fool of himself?

_But I can choose not to drink so much of the dwarven ale…_ he thought, as he soundlessly stepped through the corridors leading to his private chamber. _Or I could just drink slowly. Really slowly…_

Snapping his door shut behind him, Legolas leant against it with a smile at his plan. It takes a lot to make a wood elf tipsy, after all. With a pang, he remembered Aragorn's words to him only this morning. He had been tipsy…

With a sigh, Legolas walked over to a basin of clean water, resigning himself to what was to come.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

A knock on the door, followed by Aragorn's voice woke Legolas from his light elven sleep.

"Legolas? Mellon-nin," he called from behind the door. "The feast has begun."

Legolas blinked a few times and sat up from his bed, his blue leggings and silvery blue tunic put on.

"Hannon-le, Estel. I shall be over in a minute."

He heard a small chuckle from Aragorn as the man walked away. Standing up, Legolas straightened his tunic and proceeded to walk over to his door, shoulders squared with dignity.

_Let the game commence…_


	5. Dwarven Ale

Dwarven Ale.

The large open wooden doors at the end of the white stone corridor had never seemed so far away. Or daunting.

_Right, this is your last chance to turn back._

And be known as a coward? I think not. It's time to show that dwarf how elves drink. Again.

Forcing his body to co-operate, Legolas squared his shoulders and continued to walk forward, his face expressionless. Even from the end of the corridor Legolas could hear the voices carrying through, full of merriment and laughter.

The smell of venison and game as he entered the great hall told him that food had been served onto the tables. Looking to his right near the doors, he saw three large wooden tables laid with the most delicious looking foods, ranging from mouth-watering venison and other meats to juicy fruits, both large and small.

The hall was busy, filled with men and women from all over the city. When Legolas had first entered the hall, the volume of the voices laughing and chatting had almost been too much for his sharp ears, but the uncomfortable feeling had soon gone when he grew accustomed to it.

Looking over the many heads and listening out over the many voices, Legolas spotted King, Dwarf and Steward chatting to a pair of familiar identical elves, and a richly dressed man with blonde hair, whom he approached in a resolute and graceful manner.

The two elves, three men and dwarf continued their light-hearted conversation, apparently not noticing the approaching Mirkwood Elf. Until that is the twin sons of Elrond turned in unison as Legolas approached, smiles lighting up their faces.

"Legolas, it has been too long," Elrohir greeted, nodding his head in the direction of the blonde elf, a gesture Elladan and Eomer imitated.

"Aye," Legolas said nodding his head in return as he smiled a warm smile. "It has been long indeed."

"Oh, enough of the formalities," Elrohir said laughing. "Come here!"

Legolas momentarily froze as the younger twin warmly embraced him, but as the sudden shock wore off, he smiled and embraced Elrohir back, returning the gesture to Elladan, who embraced Legolas just as tightly.

"Lord Legolas, I hope you are well?" Eomer asked with a tilt of his head.

Legolas placed his hand on his heart and swept it towards the King of Rohan with grace. "That I am, Eomer King. I trust the Lady Lothiriel and yourself are too?"

Eomer beamed. "We are thank you. Though I am afraid she remains in Rohan, as she did not wish for her people to be parted from both her King and Queen. But she did however express her regret at not coming, Elessar."

Aragorn waved the last comment away. "Do not worry, she is both wise and beautiful, and knows what is best for her kingdom. She is also a woman, so, naturally, she would be correct." He grinned at the fellow king, but stopped short when Arwen walked over, a suspicious expression on her face.

"And how, pray tell, would being a woman help, my love?" she asked sweetly as she narrowed her bright eyes.

Aragorn coughed and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Well, you are always wise and beautiful. And... correct."

"Correct," Arwen replied with a smile. "And you ought to remember that once in a while."

Forgetting where he was, or the company he was in, Aragorn began to protest. "I always heed your advice in court! I could never doubt or question the eternal wisdom of the Evenstar."

Arwen gave a laugh and held his hand within her own. "I should hope so. Now, is this how you plan on entertaining your guests?"

Aragorn tore his eyes away from her loving ones and faced his companions, a slight blush on his cheeks as she left

"Yes, sorry." He cleared his throat, and soon enough his voice was back to normal. "As you know, Gimli has challenged Legolas to another drinking game, seeing as he lost last time."

"I did not lose! That pointed eared princeling over there cheated somehow!"

Aragorn raised his hand slightly. "Peace, Gimli. I thought it could be tonight, as this feast had already been arranged, which would be the perfect time. Not only that, but then our guests could have definitely arrived." He looked to each of his friends, smiling. "So," he said, clapping his hands, which to Legolas seemed like a countdown to his impending doom. "Shall we begin?"

Thankfully, the cheery replies from men, dwarf and fellow elves drowned Legolas' almost silent groan. The butterflies from earlier had made themselves known again as he approached two chairs to one side of the room.

The chairs were sat facing each other, with just a wooden table in-between them, which the elf noticed, was played host to a large looking keg in the middle of it, with two tankards beside it.

Raising his chin, Legolas walked over to his seat and sat opposite the dwarf who was now looking very smug and bored. Regardless of Gimli's great beard, the elf could tell that his small friend was smirking at him.

"So tell me, young princeling," Gimli asked the elf opposite him as he leant forwards to rest his elbows on the table. "How many pints of ale did you drink last night?"

Legolas froze and widened his eyes. Gimli apparently noticed this, as he leant back into the chair, smiling smugly again.

Aragorn, who had been filling up the two tankards in the middle of the banter, lowered his head slightly, and seemed suddenly quite absorbed with his task. Feeling sharp blue eyes on him, Aragorn looked at the elf and gave a nervous smile. "I didn't think he would, you know, remember. What I told him."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at his friend's betrayal, before resting them on Gimli. "I would have you know, friend Gimli, that I had seven pints of this vile concoction that you call ale, and was not even tipsy." A small snigger came form Aragorn's direction, which the elf ignored. "And how many, pray tell, did you have?"

Gimli leant forwards again and lowered his voice so that it was just loud enough for the small group to hear.

"Twelve."

A tankard filled to the brim with frothing ale was placed in front of the now speechless elf.

"So then, you know the rules, same as last time. Oh, and may the best dwarf win!" Gimli toasted as Eomer handed him his drink.

The elf felt several hands clap him on the back as he watched in horror and disbelief as the dwarf only half his size that was sat before him, downed the ale before letting out a rich burp. Faramir immediately grabbed the now empty tankard and filled it to the brim again, before sliding it across the table to the smiling dwarf.

"You can start now, you know," one of the twins whispered to Legolas. He didn't know which twin, but right now, he couldn't really care.

Looking down at his tankard, Legolas brought up an arm and grasped the warm wood between his fingers. He brought it closer, watching it swish dangerously over the brim as though it were a poison. In his mind, it was.

Staring at the yellowy froth, as though willing it to go away, Legolas brought it to his nose and gave a small sniff, trying hard not to pull away in disgust. He let out a small sigh, and closed his eyes, bringing the offending tasting ale closer and closer to his lips. He stopped when the wood rested on his bottom lip, before cautiously opening his lips and taking a large mouthful of the dwarven atrocity.

Legolas swallowed instantly, and the look of disdain on his face made his friends laugh as the full flavour exploded in his mouth, followed swiftly by a bitter taste that, unfortunately, remained.

He looked at the dwarf over his tankard who was now on his third pint, and grimaced.

_Remind me again why I agreed to this?_

_Because dignity and a challenge are not things you tend to dismiss._

With a deep breath, Legolas opened his lips and allowed the ale to pass right through down his throat. Taking large gulps, he continued on until the tankard was finally empty - only to have it swiftly refilled by Faramir who seemed intent on keeping the ale flowing.

_One down, Valar knows how many more to go…._

OoooOOOoooO

"Wouldn't it be easier, Faramir, if we had more than one tankard each?" Legolas asked as he watched the Steward refill his fifth pint.

Faramir glanced at the tankard that he was holding mid way between Legolas and himself, and looked at Gimli's which was being drained. "That's not such a bad idea. Saves me having to count each pint," he said, nodding his head. "But I'll need a hand. Gimli is already on his seventh, and I think we'll be requiring quite a few more tankards…"

All eyes turned to Gimli, who was so engrossed in downing his ale that he was completely oblivious to all else going on around him. The fact the he hadn't said a word for the past ten minutes began to make Legolas wonder with a small amount of hope if the dwarf was already drunk. The chances of this, however, were slim.

"I'll need some help though," Faramir continued, interrupting Legolas' thoughts.

Taking a large gulp from his own tankard, Eomer swallowed and pointed it at his brother-in-law. "I'll come with you and give you a hand."

"Whilst we continue counting the pints," Elladan said with a grin as he raised his own wine glass.

"Very well. We shan't be long!" Faramir called as he walked away with Eomer to the kitchens.

There was silence for all of two seconds before Gimli broke it, bringing his tankard away from his face, revealing a rather red looking dwarf. "Keep them coming, there's a good lad!"

Aragorn laughed and reached out to give the dwarf his refill. Legolas on the other hand gave an inward sigh.

The dwarf did not appear to be even tipsy. His speech was non-slurred and he was downing his ale like a hobbit with food. The only give away to the amount that Gimli had drunk was his red face and his slightly droopy looking eyes.

The only ray of hope Legolas had to go by now was the fact that the dwarf had yet to stand. Saying that, that was his only plan as well, but surely they could not remain seated for the entire night! Soon enough, one of them was going to have to stand, and that person, either elf or dwarf, would surely feel the impact of the alcohol.

With inward acceptance of how this was likely to turn out, Legolas drained the remainder of his bitter ale and held it out to Elrohir who instantly brought it to the keg to refill.

The bitter taste that remained in his mouth was truly disgusting. Ai, what he would give for a sip of sweet Dorwinion wine…. Actually, what he would give for anything that was not ale.

As he thought this, his gaze turned to the glass of wine in Elladan's hand, which was waving about as he conversed with Aragorn. The way the ruby red of the handpicked grape swirled in the glass, leaving legs on the walls of its confinement, a visual taste of its fruity flavour and sweetness….

"I propose a drink trade."

Legolas' voice caused the two elves, dwarf and man to stop what they were doing.

"A what?"

"You can't do that in a drinking game!"

Legolas laid his eyes on the dwarf and arched an eyebrow, hoping against hope that the dwarf was tipsy enough to forget a certain rule that he was currently breaking. "Actually, master dwarf, I can. The rules as you may recall, are that there are no spills or regurgitation. There are no rules stating that I or any other person cannot swap drinks." _Thank the Valar that Eomer went with Faramir!_

Gimli narrowed his eyes and stroked his beard. "I am sure, princeling, that there was another rule…."

Legolas tried his best to keep his expression and tone of voice neutral as the dwarf eyed him suspiciously. "Are you suggesting that I cheat? Or is it that the ale is already beginning to intoxicate you and your senses?"

Both elf and dwarf continued to start at each other, until Aragorn raised both of his hands. "I think I'll play judge with this one. You can exchange five pints of ale for the equivalent in wine. I suppose Legolas would like to salvage his taste buds, and not only that, but I think it will turn out to be rather humorous."

Aragorn received a few odd looks at his last comment, until Gimli raised three fingers. "Three swaps, not five," he said, eyes back on Legolas.

"Five."

"Three."

"Four."

"One."

"One?! Fine, three."

"Three it is then," Aragorn declared. "Three pints worth of Dorwinion then, Legolas?"

Legolas crossed his arms. "Yes." That familiar feeling of Aragorn knowing something that he didn't crept into the back of his mind as a look of contemplation followed by amusement ran across Aragorn's face.

"Elrohir, once Legolas has finished this new pint, I don't suppose you could grab us a few bottles of Dorwinion from that table over there?" Aragorn grinned.

Elrohir arched a dark eyebrow at his younger brother's amused tone of voice before complying. As he left, he shot a look of confusion over to Elladan, who returned the expression.

Aragorn, meanwhile, was refilling Gimli's tankard, and passed it to the dwarf who smirked at the elf and straightaway began drinking it as though someone possessed.

"Mellon, what happened to 'no pauses'?" Aragorn grinned in Legolas' ear.

Legolas cast an indignant look before changing it to an innocent one. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"And are you sure you want to go from dwarven ale to Dorwinion?"

"Yes! Why wouldn't I want to?"

Aragorn gave a sigh and raised his eyebrows, with an if-you-really-want smile.

Seconds later, Elrohir returned with three well-balanced bottles of the Mirkwood wine. Each of which were placed in front of the golden haired elf who eyed them with longing.

With a pained expression, Legolas raised his tankard and drank the contents in five mouthfuls before pushing it towards the Dorwinion in disgust.

"Right," he grimaced, "a pint of wine if you please."

Over his own tankard, Gimli looked at the elf, who could have sworn he could see the laughter lines near his eyes become more obvious. Aragorn also glanced at the elf and then back at the dwarf.

"If you are really sure?"

"Yes!" Legolas replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Aragorn shrugged in response, and proceeded to carry out the elf's bidding.

As Legolas' eyes rested on the tankard being filled with wine before him, something clicked in his brain.

Legolas knew Dorwinion was highly potent, but he also knew that he had a rather high resistance to that potency, like other elves. He was also nervously aware that he had had six pints of Gimli's ale. Last night he had had but seven, and yet he struggled to remember events…. _Dorwinion is fine. I can handle it. Just don't stand up for a while._ But this was his _seventh _pint. He had not got further than seven pints in the tavern, and he had been tipsy. Beyond this seventh one of his, he was entering the unknown.

"Remember, Legolas," Aragorn said quietly, "no pauses."

Legolas raised the aromatic wine filled tankard in a cheers and greedily gulped it down, savouring the taste as it passed down his throat leaving a slight burning sensation in its wake.

"Second pint of wine, coming up," he heard Elladan say as the tankard was taken from his hand.

As he watched Elladan fill his tankard to the brim again, Legolas saw Gimli out of the corner of his eye begin to drink his pint. _That dwarf is drinking himself into oblivion…! _

Around him, the feast was still going on, though much of the food that had been on the tables was now gone, as were a fair few people. Legolas cast his eyes over to the door and back to the table, only to blink and look back to the door again when he saw Faramir and Eomer enter with a rather large sheet between them.

Faramir had been true to his word and had had got as many tankards as possible, enough for at least twenty pints each!

"Still going?" he heard Eomer call as they approached the table.

"Aye," Aragorn replied. "Give it a few more, and I think we'll start to see the alcohol taking over!"

Faramir and Eomer both laughed, but were cut short when they spotted the wine Legolas was now being handed, which he straightaway began to drink.

"Legolas?" Faramir asked slightly amazed.

"Yes?"

"Is that…" He blinked in disbelief as he started splitting the pile of tankards into two. "Are you drinking ale _and _wine?"

Legolas lowered his tankard and looked at the Steward as though he was going mad. "I am. Why?"

Both Eomer and Faramir cast amazed looks at Aragorn, who tried hard to remain straight-faced. When he started to shake his head in a fairly subtle way, Faramir dropped it. Legolas, however, was now holding his tankard out for his final Dorwinion pint. "Nothing, I was just wondering why you had started drinking wine instead."

"Leave the lad to it," Gimli's called out, the mirth was obvious. "Let him drink, let him drink."

The Mirkwood elf was doing precisely that. When the final drop of wine left the tankard, Legolas slammed it down with more force than he had intended. His companion's eyes turned towards him, but Legolas was now paying no attention.

The elf felt his eyes and head droop slightly as a wave of light-headedness passed through. He placed his elbows on the table, now opting for leaning rather than sitting up.

"And there," Eomer said between sniggers, "is the slight tingling. Though this time, it's not just in your fingers, is it, Legolas?"

The elf in question shot a dark look at the Rohan King, whose sniggers turned to laughter. "Top up, Elladan, please."

Elladan grabbed one of the tankards and automatically filled it with ale, trying hard to suppress a smile.

Legolas fought the urge not to grimace at the vulgar ale when the dark haired elf handed it back, but instead took a deep breath and allowed the drink to fall down his throat.

"When do you think we'll start to see the effects?" Eomer whispered as Legolas became engrossed in his task of emptying his tankard.

"I reckon in the next three or four pints," Aragorn replied quietly, leaning in.

"How many times have you seen Legolas intoxicated, Estel?" Elrohir joined in as he stepped besides Aragorn.

Aragorn squinted his eyes as he tried to recollect. "Once, maybe twice… he had drunk loads before showing any signs of even being tipsy!"

"Well," Elladan said in an equally low voice, "Legolas is very good at hiding it all when he can. With ale, however –"

"He cannot hold back the side affects, just like with all elves," Elrohir finished.

Faramir crept besides the elf. "So are you saying he may be tipsy already?" he asked, looking from Elrohir to Legolas.

The men and elves shared knowing looks and smiles when Legolas once again slammed down his tankard with more force than usual. Legolas, however, remained oblivious.

"And another, Elladan pleashe." Legolas broke off and frowned. "Please! I said _please_!"

Kings, twins, Steward and dwarf stopped and looked at the elf in slight shock and raised eyebrows. Elladan walked forwards to grab a tankard and brought it the keg, a smile tugging on his lips.

Legolas just slumped back in his chair, deciding to slouch rather than obtain his usual position of sitting up straight. This small movement alone caused the elf to gasp quietly as the whole room and all its people momentarily became one big blur as the all of the colours merged together and began to spin. Groaning, Legolas rested his head on his hands and did not even respond when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you wish to continue, mellon-nin?" he heard Aragorn ask quietly.

Legolas was about to nod in response, but at the last minute thought against the idea. Instead he slowly raised his head so that his slightly unfocused eyes met Aragorn's grey ones.

"But the last one standing wins," he slurred, smiling lopsidedly.

As he felt Aragorn remove his hand to go and fill another tankard, Legolas gave a gasp and sat up straight, once again earning him some highly amused looks.

"Last one standing wins!" Legolas exclaimed, looking at his friends with wide eyes. "But Aragorn, I, I am not stood up!"

Aragorn looked at his elven friend with false shock and was about to answer, until Gimli spoke up.

"Lad, you're right!" he grinned as Legolas continued to glance around in surprise. Gimli winked at Aragorn and replaced his grin with a look of false shock. "We must stand up immediately, else the game will be forfeit!"

Legolas' eyes widened even more and he gasped loudly. "Never!" he near shouted, slamming his hand down on the table before him.

Before the elf himself realised what he was doing, Legolas pushed himself up from the chair he was sitting on and instantly reached out for the table for support as his unnaturally heavy legs gave way.

His friends were silent for a moment as they observed the odd sight before them – Legolas, an elf of grace, semi-slumped on the table before him. Slowly, that silence became laughter as Legolas looked around dazedly.

The twins stepped forwards and pulled Legolas up to a standing position, as he smiled lopsidedly again until he looked at the laughing dwarf before him. His expression turned to shock as he looked at Gimli who was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, and pointed a slightly trembling finger to where he thought the dwarf was sitting.

"Gimli, your eyes! They are, they are leaking!" Legolas looked around him to try and get Aragorn's attention, as he urged his slow brain and sluggish body to co-operate. "Stop laughing! Gimili is leaking water!"

Roars of laughter surrounded him as Legolas tried in vain to get his friends to see the seriousness of the situation. "Gimili!"

Fresh howls of laughter erupted as Legolas continued to call Gimli's name. In desperation, he spun round a little too quickly and grabbed the nearest person by the shoulders, who turned out to be Elladan.

"Elaro, Elar, El-a-roow-hir, you must help the dwarf!"

Elladan fought hard to keep a face of serenity, but Legolas' actions were causing him to fail.

"I'm Elladan, Legolas. Elrohir is stood here."

Legolas tilted his head in shocked confusion, and squinted at the two elves, Gimli forgotten at this latest revelation. "Noo," he said deeply in disbelief. "No, you are… oh."

Legolas pulled away slightly, to look at both elves. He frowned in agitation. "Stop, stop moving."

The twins looked at each other, smiles adorning their faces, and looked back at Legolas, their eyes slightly narrowed.

"We're not moving," laughed Elrohir, enjoying the rare scene of a drunk Legolas.

Legolas gave a nervous laugh. "Yes yare!" he looked to the floor, and back up to the faces of the dark haired elves, who were now sure enough, swaying on the spot. He let out a snort of laughter, and, to a reason unknown to him, began laughing uncontrollably. "Yare!"

He rested his head on his arms that were still on the twin's shoulders as his legs began to buckle. Legolas removed his hands from Elladan's shoulders in an attempt to stand up himself, but quickly found himself unable to do so as he staggered towards the table.

A feeling of dread hit Legolas as he found his body was not co-operating in any way with his mind.

Laughing, Aragorn stepped forwards and lifted the semi-limp elf who was giggling feebly, and held him up for support.

"You know, Legolas, I think you may have had enough for now."

Legolas straightened up and cast a look of indignation and anger at the man. "Are you saying I am a drunk?"

Aragorn laughed at the look on Eomer and Faramir's face before replying. "You are drunk, an-"

"Liar!" Legolas called out dramatically. "I am an elf who does not get drunk!"

"I would argue differently," Gimli chortled from his seat, earning himself a pair of annoyed, and also very unfocused, set of usually sharp eyes.

"Yes, but you are a dwarf!" Legolas exclaimed in an exasperated voice. "Therefore, yes," he finished in an uncertain tone.

"Very well," laughed the dwarf, "if you are able to walk to me unaided, then I will agree that you are not drunk and that this game will be a draw."

Legolas blinked.

"If you walk to me by yourself, then you are not drunk and we both win," Gimli said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Legolas answered with a smile.

He straightened his back and looked at Aragorn. "Step back, I am an elf!"

With a glance at Gimli, Legolas smiled smugly, and proceeded to lift his right foot and move it forward.

But the rest of him followed.

With an 'ow' and a thump, Legolas found himself blinking confusedly at the boots of his friend's. "Aragorn," he whispered loudly from the floor above the laughter, "don't tell the dwarf, but I think I'm drunk."

Snorts of laughter broke out again at the elf's revelation. "I hate to say this, Legolas, but I told you so!" Aragorn laughed as he crouched down besides the Mirkwood elf.

"Shush you."

The elf felt a sudden tiredness sweep over him as he laid there, and closed his eyes as they began to feel heavy. With dulled senses, he was also aware of two pairs of hands lifting him to his feet.

"Oh, but I want to sleep," he moaned as his legs went limp beneath him. Luckily, both Aragorn and Faramir had one of his arms over their shoulders as they proceeded to half drag him out of the hall, his head hanging limply with his hair curtaining his face.

Many faces of amusement and shock were cast their way as they made their way over to the doors, but both King and Steward continued walking out. The smiles on their faces, however, were obvious to all.

"So," Faramir began as they moved through the cool halls towards Legolas' bedchamber. "I take it Gimli won?"

Aragorn laughed. "Aye, I reckon so! Though how much of this night Legolas will remember I don't know. I don't think he has ever drunk so much ale before!"

They turned left down a smaller corridor and continued on, their voices echoing. The quiet sound of Legolas' booted feet being dragged along the marbled floor provided a consistent backdrop noise.

They stopped briefly and looked at each other when they heard another noise accompanying them.

"Is Legolas, humming?" Faramir asked with a surprised laugh.

Aragorn's face broke out into yet another grin as they continued on. "Why yes, I think he is!"

Both Faramir and Aragorn stopped soon again when they reached the four steps before them that led to the bedchamber doors.

"Er," Aragorn said as he looked from the steps to the limp elf besides him. "If you take his legs, I'll take his arms."

"Agreed," Faramir said with a nod.

Aragorn shuffled to the left, and placed his forearms under the elf's armpits, supporting him as Faramir moved round and picked up the elf's legs.

"He's a bit heavier than he looks!" Faramir said in surprise as they carried the no longer humming Legolas up the stairs.

They continued along the candlelit corridor and stopped when they reached Legolas' bedchamber door. Faramir gently put down Legolas' legs and quickly opened the door before picking them back up and proceeding with Aragorn to the elf's bed.

They carefully laid Legolas down who was fast asleep with his eyes closed, and tugged off his boots and undid his belt. Aragorn brought up the folded sheets and laid them over his elven friend, who shifted to his front, his arm dangling off of the large bed and his mouth slightly open.

Just for caution, Faramir brought over Legolas' now empty water basin and placed it on the small table besides the bed. "Just for precaution," he smiled. "After all, mixing ale with wine – what was he thinking!"

"He didn't know," Aragorn grinned.

Both Faramir and Aragorn stepped back and looked at the sleeping, and thoroughly drunk, elf.

"You know, tomorrow is going to be a good day for us all and our elven friend here," Aragorn said with a grin.

Faramir looked at his king and cast a sympathetic look at the oblivious Legolas before them. "Don't be too mean on him," he said with a smile, "as no doubt Gimli will be nice on him tomorrow as well."

"Of that I have no doubt," Aragorn laughed.

Legolas stirred slightly at the sound, but made no further movement as Faramir and Aragorn left the room and closed the door quietly behind them.

"Well, Gimli is probably drinking himself to nothing at his little victory, and Iruthel's hang-over cure is waiting patiently in the kitchen for many men – and elf," Aragorn said, his laughter echoing off the walls as they both made their way back to the Great Hall.

Sorry this took an age to post, so for that I am writing up an epilogue for you all 

Hope you are enjoying the story!

Elrayen xx


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